


A Storm of Song and Smoke

by IHearttheHitachiinTwins



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson, Phantom of the Opera (2004)
Genre: (Do you expect anything different?), (It's Dear Evan Hansen), Agressive Behaviour, Alternate Universe - Phantom of the Opera Fusion, Anxiety, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Obsessive Behavior, Panic Attacks, Work In Progress, questionable sanity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 08:31:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11528484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IHearttheHitachiinTwins/pseuds/IHearttheHitachiinTwins
Summary: All Evan Hansen wanted to do was sing. It was his passion, his escape, his only true talent. That being said, ever since coming to the Murphy Opera House, it was causing him nothing but trouble. His childhood friend is acting even stranger than usual, the choirmaster has something to hide and he seemed to have caught the attention of a myth who was far less mythical than previously thought.





	A Storm of Song and Smoke

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to tumblr user MonsterUnderTheFedora for (I suspect unintentionally) bringing this AU to life within the mess that I fondly refer to as my brain.

Connor was sleeping in the rafters the first time he heard it. Curled up in a crook in the beams high above the floor when a melodious and beautiful serenade that cut through the dark. Calmed the turbulence of ~~his mind~~ the opera house and let the light through for the first time in far too long. He felt the voice call to his very soul and essentially drag him from his resting place. _Get closer_ his broken psyche whispered. _Closer, closer, closer._ He slunk along the maze of planks and high roofs of his home and felt the rush of warm air that came with the main hall.

Connor peered down from his perch in hopes of a glance of the creator of this mana from heaven. This gift from god himself. The owner of this voice could call him forth and make him kneel and he would thank them. He looked past long, unkempt hair and saw an _angel._

Blonde hair gleaming in the candlelight that lit the hall. The spotlight paled in comparison to the radiance that the golden singer emitted from every pore.

Connor was completely and utterly transfixed. 

For once his mind was more than fire and smoke and pain and anger. The song of this seraph (or perhaps a siren?) washed away the soot and pain, memories of screaming for help soothed, and left him clean, pure, _whole._

So absorbed in the melody was he, that he didn’t notice that the song had drawn to a close until the din of chatter overtook his momentary bliss. Slinking back into the shadows he heard only snatches of the conversation being partaken by the fools who presumed to own _his_ opera house. Exclaims of ‘quite a talent’ and ‘the makings of a true star, that Evan Hansen’.

‘ _Evan Hansen…_ ’ whispered Connor’s mind. ‘ _His name is Evan Hansen. My savior. My light. My angel.’_

\----oOo----

Evan felt his face heat up. Why in the world had he just agreed to be the first singer of _opening night?_ He’d almost had an attack up there in front of the chorus singers! Why had he stepped forward? Why? Alana’s encouragement still rang in his ears.

_“You’ll be fine! I’ve heard you at practice, you’re incredible. Just go up there!”_

The memory made him sink down the wall of his dressing room and hide his face in his hands.

“Now that’s no position for a star. You were fantastic out there Hansen! You’ve been holding out on me!”

Evan peeked through his fingers to see the beaming face of his childhood and only friend, Jared Kleinman. He let himself in without waiting for any manner of invite. He knew Evan wouldn’t turn him away.

Evan knew too.

“ _Why,_ Jared?” Evan groaned, muffling a scream with his hands. “Why do I do this to myself?”

“Hey, c’mon. Chin up. You were amazing, even though you’re… you, yeah?”

“I guess…”

Jared shuffled uncomfortably on the spot. He traced a shape in his coat pocket, a small box from the looks of it. Evan eyed it, too unsure to ask what it was.

“Actually… Evan, I’ve been meaning to ask you something…”

Jared was cut off by a rap on the door.

“Kleinman! The boss wants to see you!”

A muffled voice came from outside, stern and loud. Evan flinched. He didn’t like yelling.

“Shoot. I’d better go… I'll see you later?”

It sounded like a question rather than a goodbye, so Evan nodded sheepishly. Jared’s face lit up again in a brilliant smile before he swept towards the exit.

“Until we meet again, my dear Evan Hansen.”

With a deft flick of his wrist, the brunet tossed him the rose from his lapel. Evan caught it numbly and blinked as Jared dissapeared out the door.

That was… odd.

But then, Jared always had been. Ever since the two were but children, he had alternated between showering the blond with affection and being friendly but teasing. The banter laced with an uncertainty brought about with a lack of experience dealing with friends and peers. Creeping from borderline cruel to brushing against flirting. It was simply… Jared.

Evan would be lying if he said that it didn’t cause a small swell of affection in the pit of his stomach.

He carefully placed the rose on his dresser. It really was beautiful. A vibrant red bloom, clearly real and fresh. Picked with care. Jared was looking to impress someone tonight. Some good-looking actress no doubt.

Evan considered the mirror, his face taught with worry. Scrubbing at his eyes he tried to scratch all the confusion away and see clearly.

Knock.

The blonde jolted back in surprise as there was a light tapping on the mirror. He stepped back in awe to see the mirror swing open like a door. Out from the gloom behind stepped a tall figure swathed in shadow and velvet. His (for it was male as far as Evan could see, despite the lengthy hair) face cut by a bone-china mask perfectly sculpted to his face.

Evan was frozen. Petrified really.

He’d heard the rumors, but… Seriously?

The Phantom of the Opera House?

\----oOo----

Connor took in the sight of his angel. Surprised (who wouldn’t be at the appearance of an urban legend behind their mirror?), but no less beauteous for it. In fact, knowing that Connor had _caused_ that subtle widening of green eyes. That it was him and only him that had warranted the strangled little gasp escaping frozen lips. It made the reaction all the more tantalizing.

“My dearest Evan Hansen.”

He swooped into a low bow, cape flaring behind him creating a presence and impression fitting of he that Connor wished to woo. Appeal to an artist with drama. Perhaps a tad too much drama as Hansen seemed shocked beyond movement, but Connor could rectify that.

He took the bronzed hand (sun kissed perhaps? Oh, what a sweet sorrow should his dear crave the sun’s touch. No matter, Connor would adjust if he must.) and kissed it with reverence. _‘Like a gentleman.’_ said the voice of a mother long gone. _‘Like someone who was raised to treat someone right.’_

Connor didn’t know if he was capable of treating someone ‘right’, but for Evan he would try.

For his angel.

“I heard you singing earlier and could not dismiss it.” An understatement. “I apologize for my sudden appearance, but would you perhaps… Join me for a duet?”

Just one.

Just one night.

Just once with his angel, Connor would sing with a partner again.

If his partner would take him.

… Dear God. Had he just asked Evan Hansen to sing with him?

Nerves made blood roar in his ears. This was an idiotic idea. Why would this perfect being sing with him? He was too damaged for society now. Could only hide in the opera house as a specter, a half-real concept fueled by fear and organ music ringing through the dark. Just a figment unworthy of the sun… A useless scrap of-

 “Um… Phantom?”

Connor could have slapped himself. In his spiral, had he missed Evan’s answer? What a selfish man he must seem, asking a question and then not listening to the answer.

“My apologies my dear, I was lost in my thoughts. Could you repeat?”

“Oh- I’m- Sorry I just- I- If you want to sing with- Not to say that you- Yes! That is… If you still want to- Not that I think you’ve changed your mind- Although it’s fine if you have! I just….“

Connor frowned at the stuttering he seemed to have elicited in Evan. His soul ached at the pain the golden male seemed to be putting himself through. He took Evan’s tanned hands in his cold, pale ones and said in the softest voice he was capable of mustering.

“If you would sing with me, I would be honored.”

He pulled Evan towards the doorway behind the mirror and slowly, hesitantly, the other followed him.


End file.
